


The Lotus Flower and the Summer Wind

by lathalea



Series: Just Imagine [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bathtub, Evening after a long day, F/M, Fluff, Relaxing Massage, Romance, Tenderness, You deserve some rest, back massage, relaxing evening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27374191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lathalea/pseuds/lathalea
Summary: You are quite tired after a long day and decide to enjoy a relaxing evening by yourself, but the mischievous King Under the Mountain himself decides to thwart your plans in a very pleasing manner.
Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield/Original Female Character(s), Thorin Oakenshield/Reader, Thorin Oakenshield/You
Series: Just Imagine [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135697
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	The Lotus Flower and the Summer Wind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shrimpsthings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shrimpsthings/gifts).



> _For Shrimpy, the best Shrimp on the seven seas of Arda!_

It has been a very long day. Your muscles hurt after the day’s work, the constant running back and forth, playing with the little ones, and making sure each and every single of the pebbles was properly tucked in for the afternoon nap. And then, there were their parents, too. You grunt. It’s not the first time you’re wondering how it is possible that some of these cute dwarflings have such bad-tempered parents, especially a father like Halfgrim. His daughter, Nanna, is the embodiment of sweetness, her hazel eyes always smiling at you as she follows your every step, her tiny hands holding on to your skirts. But Halfgrim is different, always haughty, always dismissive, always having a stick in his...., ahem, always claiming he knows what’s best for his daughter. The problem is, it’s his first child and he masks his lack of experience with pompousness while you’ve been taking care of the little ones for years and years. You could bet your favorite emerald necklace that he doesn't have a clue that Nanna prefers apples to pears and the only way to make her stop fussing when it’s time to eat oatmeal is to tell her a good story.

You shake your head. It’s evening now and you finally have some time for yourself. You definitely aren’t going to spend it on thinking of stuck-up dwarves like Halfgrim. A long, hot bath will do you good, you decide.

The air in the bath chamber is filled with a sweet flowery scent when you slowly slide into the bathtub. The water is pleasantly warm, just the way you like it and there are rose petals dancing on its surface. A sigh escapes your lips when your tired muscles start relaxing as you rest your back comfortably, your body fully submerged. The light of dozens of candles surrounds you, casting fantastic shadows on the stone walls and you allow your mind to drift away.

You don’t know how long you’ve been dozing off when a deep baritone voice murmurs into your ear.

“Are you in need of assistance, my lady?” you feel his warm breath fanning your skin.

“Perhaps,” you reply, not opening your eyes. A small smile appears on your lips. You know this voice so well and you recognize the scent of pines, pipe tobacco and leather that reaches you.

“Allow your humble servant to assist you then,” there is a mischievous tone in his voice. You chuckle when one of his dark temple braids brushes against your cheek, tickling you slightly. You’re wondering what he is up to this time.

You graciously allow him to proceed and soon you feel his wide, calloused hands on your shoulders as he slowly starts massaging them, each careful, skilled move removing the tension from your body.

“Long day?” his voice sounds behind you as he moves one of his hands to your neck, slowly caressing it.

“You have no idea,” you nod slightly.

“Is it the shoulder again?” his low rumble fills the chamber. You know that if you were to look at him now, you would see his azure eyes glimmering with the reflected candlelight and there would be that focused frown on his handsome, familiar face.

“Mmmm,” right now, all you can do is hum, basking in the relaxing pleasure of his touch as his impossibly warm and attentive hands move to the part of your body that decided to act up again.

“Let me see what I can do about it,” he says, and you think that nothing is impossible to him, perhaps even chasing the pain away. He is the King, after all.

As he returns to his ministrations, his touch seems to fill your whole world. He has the hands of a great warrior used to holding deadly weapons but his adept fingers are able to bring you great relief. You sense the tenderness in his movements as his skin brushes against yours, rubbing you gently, meticulously untying the muscle knots hidden under your skin, one by one, your sensitive skin submitting to his soothing touch. Soon, you are not sure where you end and he begins, as if the surface of your skin melted together with his, your senses heightened, multiplying your sensations, the water flowing around you, the hot steam enveloping you both like a soft cocoon. You feel like a lotus flower floating on the waters of endless bliss. His touch is like warm summer wind caressing your petals and bringing respite, all the pain and discomfort forgotten.

“Your skin is as smooth as the most exquisite silks, my lady,” he murmurs, the movements of his hands slowing down. “I could not live with myself if I allowed it to turn into a raisin,” there is a playful tone in his voice. “Would you care for a towel?”

“Indeed I would,” you admit and at the same time, anticipating your wish, he is already by your side, offering you the aforementioned piece of thick, unbelievably fluffy fabric. It smells like pines, like him.

As you leave the bath, leaving all the tiredness and worries behind, he caringly wraps you in the towel and spares a few moments to braid your damp hair into a royal braid, securing it with an emerald clasp he had given you along with your necklace.

“Any further wishes, my lady?” the king looks into your eyes and you can see the wrinkles of joy in the corners of his eyes as he smiles at you, his white teeth contrasting with his thick, dark beard. You can’t help but notice his damp raven locks flowing down his naked, muscular shoulders.

“I believe I need to be transported out of this chamber,” you order and his arms wrap around you almost immediately as he swoops you off your feet, carrying you away. You throw your arms around his strong neck, your fingers intertwining with his sable mane, your body pressed against his stone-hard chest.

You leave the bath chamber in style, like a princess, no, a queen, you correct yourself, enjoying the closeness of his strapping body.

“And where should I direct my steps, my lady?” he asks, that mischievous glint appearing in his gaze yet again, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Why, to bed, of course, my lord,” you smile.

That is when Thorin grins widely and asks in that sensual, alluring voice of his, his chest rumbling against your skin.

“The question is: yours or mine?”


End file.
